She pulled her long blonde hair over one shoulder so he caught a hint of the coconut smell and memories of last night swarmed him. How was it already time to say goodbye?
She nodded slowly. “Because Thom died.” It was a whisper, and then her eyes swept shut. “And because I loved him, and promised him I always would.”
Another twist in his abdomen. “So you demonstrate that love by performing acts of self-denial?”
A small sound. A sob? God, why couldn’t he just let her go? He didn’t want to hurt her. Hadn’t he promised this would be fun?
“Please don’t do this.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “Please don’t fight with me.” She bit down on her lip and he felt bricks of regret forming. “I’m sorry if you were surprised by the timing this morning, but you need to respect my decision.”
Respect her decision. It was a done deal. There was no changing her mind. Besides, why did he want to? Lauren had been upfront with him. He’d been honest with her.
“Maybe I was wrong,” he said quietly.
She blinked and he ached to kiss her, or maybe he ached with the knowledge that he’d kissed her for the last time.
“This has run its course.” He cupped her cheek. “Look after yourself, Lauren.”
Despite the fact it was summer, the weather in London, as she landed, was grey and cool. Lauren was glad. Her mood was bleak and the weather matched it.
She hadn’t seen Raf again, not even to say goodbye. Their conversation in the salon had been the end, and it was appropriate, she supposed, that their relationship, or whatever it had been, should finish where it had begun.
But God, it hurt. She arrived home in her tiny flat and looked around and saw everything as if for the first time.
You’re existing. Not living.
Even remembering his words had the power to sear her heart. She flinched as though he was throwing them at her again. The apartment was devoid of personal objects. A bed, a small dining table – just enough for two, not like the tables at Villa Fortune that had been large enough to fit a huge, loud, loving family, the kind of family to which she’d never belong. She ran her fingertips over the top of hers and then rested her hands on the back of the chair as though she needed its support to stay upright.
She was used to being alone. She’d chosen this life, just like he said, but as the days morphed into night and then gave way to day again, she was almost paralysed by the sense of loneliness. She found it hard to eat. Hard to sleep. She felt as though she were grieving all over again, missing Thom, missing Raf, missing a part of herself that she suspected she’d never get back.
She was bereft.
A week went by and she didn’t accept any of the job offers made to her. She wasn’t ready. How could she emotionally support anyone? Part of her job required her to listen and understand; how could she listen to anything above the deafening desolation of her own heart?
Her dad called. He said he wanted to discuss the book they’d been reading. Lauren couldn’t even remember the gist of it. She’d made an excuse and hung up. Her mum rang, suggested she’d come for a visit. Lauren dissuaded her with a vague explanation and got off the call as quickly as possible.
Thom’s mother Ashley phoned. Lauren dodged the calls, a keening sense of guilt making it impossible for her to imagine speaking to the other woman.
She spent a lot of time in bed. It was something she hadn’t done, even after Thom had died. She’d forced herself to get on with her life, or that’s how she’d seen it at the time, by throwing herself back into work. Was Raf right? Had she been living in a kind of emotional stasis all this time? By closing herself off to relationships had she also closed herself off to happiness?
No.
The two weren’t connected. How could they be? Whatever she and Raf had been doing had cut her deep. There was no happiness there. She had no doubt she would be better off right now if she’d never got involved with him.
Two weeks after leaving Villa Fortune, a loud banging noise woke Lauren. It wasn’t early. In fact, it was past noon. She stared at her watch, frowned, and pushed out of bed, trying to remember the last time she’d seen another person. Not since the cab had pulled up at her door.
For the briefest second she wondered if it would be Raf?
Of course it wasn’t.
Ashley stood on the other side, two takeaway coffee cups propped in a brown cardboard carry tray and a paper bag in her other hand. She was wearing a linen singlet top and jeans. Was it warm outside? Lauren frowned. She supposed it must be. It was still summer, wasn’t it?
“Hey, Ash,” she cleared her throat. Her voice felt clogged from disuse. “What are you doing here?”
“You haven’t been answering my calls.”
“No,” Lauren searched for an excuse, then shrugged.
Ashley’s eyes looked beyond Lauren. “May I come in?”